my hopes
my dreams
lay bloated and moist
decaying
somewhere among the trees
a half-forgotten burial

I sink into my waiting depression
as a marble into molten syrup.
My hair and face drip invisibly on the clothes of passers by.  For
how long can the strings of
sadness wind around you?

You listen to my sadnesses
but no longer hear me for
I have frayed your love like
rope in too many attempts
to tie and, having failed, lay
down to the inevitable dirge
of my unrelenting tears.

Daylight brings the last notes
of silence.  The clamor of
tasks hold me up.  The
progression to the end of
diurnal relief and I am balanced
on the truth of nightime's
faithless tones of remembering.

Caroline Shank

in the back sat a guy with long hair,
and if you look at him he'd glare.
but if you sit down,
and upend his frown,
you'll find he's not much of a scare.

density of petrichor
and the depth of my love
she nestles in the ***** sheets
like a broken baby dove

The sea, sky, and sun
A light blue glow on velvet waves
Reflections and white rays like splattered paint